


messenger

by somethingsintheair



Series: fics where sung cries [2]
Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Crying, Existentialism, Gen, another heartfelt discussion fic from yours truly, or something, references to depression?, this started out as one kind of self indulgent and then turned into another you're welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 03:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17738048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingsintheair/pseuds/somethingsintheair
Summary: Sung likes to monologue a lot. Phobos doesn't usually mind.Sometimes, it gets a little sad.





	messenger

Phobos wasn’t the best conversationalist. Not because his means of communication weren’t all that traditional, that didn’t matter. His bandmates understood him regardless. It was just a part of his personality, he didn’t have all that much to say unless the topic of discussion was something that really interested him.

Naturally, Sung used that fact to his advantage.

It became a regular thing, Sung welcoming himself into Phobos’s room late at night to monologue to him. He talked about a lot of different things-- ideas for music, plans for inventions, and sometimes his more personal problems. In fact, it usually ended up going back to his personal problems.

Phobos didn’t mind these ‘conversations’ (or whatever one would call them). He valued their friendship, and he wanted to hear what Sung had to say, even if it didn’t make a whole lot of sense sometimes. Plus, his voice was… calming, in a way. Maybe it was because they’d been friends for so long, like his presence alone was a form of comfort.

It was particularly late one night when Phobos was sitting in his windowsill, carefully restringing his acoustic guitar. Sung was lying at the foot of his bed, head hanging upside-down off the edge, visor coming dangerously close to slipping off his face. He’d gone on about molecular geometry for about twenty minutes before he’d gone quiet, and after a while, Phobos had to wonder if he’d somehow fallen asleep like that.

“You ever feel like nothing matters?”

Phobos stopped, his hand frozen on a tuning key. _Pardon?_

“Like… okay.” Sung lifted himself up into a sitting position, and Phobos knew he wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. “The reason I came to Earth, the reason I went looking for you guys in the first place is because I wanted to fight the forces of Boredom.” He sat cross-legged, facing Phobos again. “Right?”

Phobos started twisting the tuning key again, waiting patiently for Sung to continue.

“But, see… I didn’t know until we got here that Boredom doesn’t even affect humans like it affects me.”

Phobos nodded. _It took quite a lot of explaining._

“Yeah, that’s not my point,” Sung said. “The point is that I went forward with the mission anyway, knowing that I wasn’t going to be saving anyone just by making music. So… what am I doing, really?”

Phobos stopped working again, his head tilted to the side. _You seem to enjoy it._

Sung nodded. “Oh, yeah, I definitely do, but… it doesn’t seem as important as other things I’ve done.” He shrugged. “Before I met you guys, I was a doctor. A real one. For, like… a lot of people. I was traveling across the universe, keeping people healthy, saving lives. I made a real impact, you know?”

Phobos was still looking at him, the guitar long forgotten. _You don’t think you’re making an impact now?_

“I mean, people enjoy our stuff, sure,” Sung replied, “But it’s just a lot of work into something that’s not-- Just… entertainment isn’t vital to a human life, is it? It’s a luxury.”

Phobos hesitated for a beat before he held out his hand. _Give me your phone._

“What-- why?”

Phobos just crooked his fingers. Sung hesitated for just a moment before pulled his phone out of his pocket and passed it over. He didn’t lock it, for whatever reason-- Phobos couldn’t tell if it was his trusting nature or his general ignorance about human technology. Regardless, he started scrolling through the messages to one of the band’s social media accounts, and tapped on one message in particular before he gave Sung his phone back.

Sung furrowed his brow as he looked at the wall of text before him, but started reading nonetheless.

“‘Hey guys, I know you probably won’t see this, but I just wanted to put it out there in case you do,’” Sung read. “Well, mission accomplished.”

Phobos waved his hand. _Keep reading._

“Fine, fine.” Sung took a deep breath before he continued. “‘I’m in a really rough spot in my life right now, and I’m always looking for little things that can make me smile. A friend of mine recommended your music to me a while back, and it took me a long time to actually get around to listening to it, but I’m glad I did. The good vibes and positivity you put out into the world is just the kind of push I needed to keep going. Thank you so much for doing what you do, for giving me something to look forward to when life gets me down. I don’t know where I’d be without your music and the friends I’ve made through it.’”

Phobos had gotten back to work while Sung read, and somewhere in the middle, his voice had started cracking a whole lot. It was only when he looked up that he realized Sung was outright crying at the end of it, clutching the phone to his chest. Carefully, Phobos set his guitar aside before he got up and crouched down to wrap his arms around Sung. Sung apparently took that as an invitation to start wailing, holding onto Phobos for dear life. It took him a good few minutes to transition into a more calm cry, the kind Phobos was more accustomed to hearing.

Still with one arm clinging onto Phobos, Sung started to scroll through his phone again, finding more and more messages of a similar nature. Phobos just stood there, arms around him, awkwardly crouched over the bed, and let him do his thing. A couple times, the crying escalated back into sobbing, and Phobos just rubbed circles his back through it all.

Finally, Sung set his phone down, still a little shaky from all the crying. He sniffled as he looked up at Phobos. _“It matters.”_


End file.
